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frey's improvement in fighting technique was nothing short of spectacular. He made up in speed and ferocity, in pure determination to excel, for any deficiency in size. He was very nearly as good as Owain, who was two years older, although he was less powerful, of course. But the boy was beginning to grow now. He would be taller than his father, a good size, not so awkwardly tall as Ian was himselfif he lived long enough. |
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"Geoffrey," Ian warned sharply, "if you fail, we may lose the day. If I give order that a troop attack, or yield ground, and you do not give the message in the time I allow, my plans will be fouled. Do not forget yourself." |
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It was not really so serious a matter. Sir Robert had been instructed to keep an eye on Geoffrey when the assault was first made and the fighting was heaviest. Nonetheless, Ian hoped the boy would obey orders. Courage was a good thing, but a sense of responsibility was equally necessary for a man who would rule extensive estates and, very likely, be high in the councils of the kingif not John, then the next king. There was no sense in wondering. The matter would be put to the proof soon enough. Ian put on and fastened his helmet, slid his arm through the shield strap, and grasped the handhold. It would have been more convenient to use a round footman's shield for this work. Obviously, horses did not climb ladders to scale walls, and knights and men-at-arms would all be afoot. But Ian was so accustomed to the weight and feel of his own shield that he chose to put up with its unwieldy size rather than trust to an unfamiliar protection. |
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A glance at the sky, where the sun was now well up, assured Ian that they were in good time. The attack could not be a complete surprise. The men in the keep must realize that once the moat was drained, an assault would soon follow. Ian hoped, however, that the leisurely pace of the morning activities in his camp would |
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